


Now he is here

by ReverseSirens



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Battle at the garbage dump, Gen, Its mentioned but whether i used the word right or not is a different story, Nostalgia, The Ending of the Battle, except not really, how to tag, last match, maybe idk if it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 19:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11607651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverseSirens/pseuds/ReverseSirens
Summary: It is the end of the Battle at the Garbage Dump, Karasuno won, Nekoma lost. Kuroo wants nothing more than to play another game with his team, although the team isn't really his anymore, is it?





	Now he is here

**Author's Note:**

> I was rewatching Haikyuu and idk i guess i just felt sad that the inevitable would soon happen. Spoilers(?) about the Miya twins although we don't know whether Karasuno won yet (but they obviously will since the BATGD needs to happen)
> 
> I literally sat down at 11 am today and was like let's write smth sad and then this thing happened and I have no wifi so I'm using my hotspot and I went through so much to post this and it's been two hours since I started this thing but it's done and it's here and it's not as sad as I wanted it to be.
> 
> I was going to write about Tendou at one point (the "Goodbye, my paradise" scene fucked me up) but I stuck with Kuroo.
> 
> I've edited these notes like eight times bc i keep making mistakes and I don't want anyone to see them.
> 
> Okay I'm shutting up now sorry if you read all the notes.

Searching for a way to come out of the situation looking no less a man, Kuroo lifted his head smiling. The dull thud of the ball hitting the ground on their side of the court signified the ending of his high school career as a volleyball player. This was the end of what he thought would be never-ending, however, all things come to an end.

“Now, now, don’t look so glum, guys! Line up so we can go eat quicker. I’m starving!” he said in a chipper voice, full of fake joy.

His team looked up at him through teary eyes, even Kenma seemed upset by the results of the match. Each and every one of them had something about them, something that told him they saw past the facade, regardless, Kuroo ignored those looks in favour of dragging them all to the line.

Behind him he heard the shouts of joy, the screams, cheers. He could hear how happy Karasuno was at their win - they would go to the finals now. The noise, the sickening voices of glee from Karasuno’s supporters, had his stomach clenching, his guts twisting and churning.

He had to keep a brave face.

In the end, he had achieved his goal, he had finally gotten to play the Battle at the Garbage Dump just as his coach, Nekomata, had once wished could happen. His dreams had come true. And yet, his heart clenched in pain at the ending, at the loss of what was once his friend.

Every time he jumped up to block a spike, his blood would start pumping faster, his heart pushing it at a rapid pace, he would feel the smile stretch on his face before he could do anything about it and when the ball hit his hand, with such force that should have ripped his arms off, when the ball slammed behind the spiker, getting completely blocked off, all he would hear was his blood running through his veins, through every part of him. It was exhilarating, spectacular, how a simple game could get such a reaction out of him.

A simple game.

Funny that. Nothing about the game was simple to Kuroo. The complexity of the passes, blocks, spikes; the game wasn’t to be taken lightly, one badly tossed ball and the whole momentum of the  game could turn around and end up making you lose control of the game. One misplaced foot and the other team gets a point. One mistake and you’ve lost.

But then again, if the other team is better than you, there isn’t much you can do about that, is there?

If one team works better as a team than the other team surely, the winners have been decided before the start of the game. Definitely. It must be.

“Kuroo!” Yaku’s voice ripped through his thoughts. The short, brown haired boy looked just as miserable as he himself must have if the looks Lev was sending him spoke for anything. “Get in line, we need out captain with us.”

‘Captain’.

He really isnt much of a captain.

He brought his team to a final loss.

The game they had all been training towards, the game they’ve all been looking forward to. He made them lose. All because he couldn’t block the last ball. Or the one before that. Or the one before that one. He hadn’t trained enough. Hadn’t done enough to be on the level of Karasuno. ‘Flightless’ they had once been called. He knew that the term wasn’t for them anymore but he had never seen a human being soar through the air the way the small middle blocker had done. His bright orange hair had been waving behind him in such a magnificent way, it looked like it was straight from a film.

Now here he was, standing in line, bowing and thanking for the game.

Now here he was, walking towards the net, shaking Karasuno’s captain’s hand.

Now here he was, ducking under the net, shaking hands with the other referee.

Now here he was, listening to Karasuno’s coach, “good game.” and “that was close.” being all that he said.

Now here he was, dragging his feet subconciously, walking towards Nekoma’s bus to go back.

Now here he was, on the bus, his facade showing cracks as he tried to remain calm.

Now here he was, in the changing rooms, crying.

They lost.

Nekoma lost.

He won’t ever play with his team again.

How could he be so reckless, how could he not train harder, how could he not work more, how could he let his team down? How could he? How could he.

Before he knew it, he was sliding to the floor, back against a locker and hands pressed to his face. He failed. He failed to lead his team to victory.

“Oh my God, Kuroo, you idiot.” the words were muffled, he felt the vibrations of the words more than he hear them. “Why are you sat in the changing room not getting changed?” came from the voice again. A dumb question. It was clear he was crying

It as Yaku.

He could tell from how he said ‘room’, dragging the letters on for longer than necessary. Only Yaku did that in the team.

“We lost,” Kuroo muttered, more to himself than to Yaku.

Yaku sighed, “Karasuno had that freak duo, we had Lev, it’s clear which one would win, isn’t it? It’s like putting a kitten in a room with wolves - although I guess saying adult crows is more accurate and funny.”

“But, I couldn’t block them, I tried and I tried but nothing was happen-” before he finished what he was saying, a kick came to his shin stopping his words slipping anymore.

“If you start blaming yourself for something you couldn’t have controlled then please be my guest but just know that I can do plenty more kicking.” Yaku warned. “God, I hate the smart ones, they always take all the blame as if, with the power of knowledge, they could have stopped the inevitable.

“We knew from the start that our chances of losing were higher than they were with winning, they bloody beat Shiratorizawa - Ushijima is in that team in case you forgot! They even beat the Miya twins and those two are some skilled bastards, I’ll tell you that.

“Now, get your butt off the floor and get changed, I’ll see you outside in ten, the coaches want to take us to dinner as both a thank you and a goodbye. Turns out, now that Nekomata got what he wanted, he’s retiring. Says he’ll still visit to kick the first and second years into shape from time to time but that they should all be okay without him here.”

Yaku began to walk away, back out to the rest of the team who were all already dressed,  when he stopped, “we all hate that we lost, all of us wish it could be different, but damn, Kuroo, don’t blame yourself for losing, Karasuno turned out to be the better team but that doesn’t mean we weren’t any good. We got to the semi-finals didn’t we? And we couldn’t have done that without our captain.” and with that, he was gone.

Kuroo sat on the ground for a little longer, catching his breath and calming down before getting up. He stripped his gym clothes and put on his other clothes, packing his bag before leaving; before walking completely out, he pressed his hand to the door, turned to face the changing rooms and said, in a hushed tone so no one could hear him, “Goodbye, my dear friend.”

“Finally, look at the fashionably late man, not even dressed that well either, what took you so long!” Yamamoto shouted at him as he slung one arm around his shoulders.

Kuroo immediately felt his chest get warmer with a sense of nostalgia. He’s going to miss these people, his teammates, his friends.

“Shut up, go away. Get off me. Lets go to eat!” he said mainly to Yamamoto but the last bit was directed to everyone.

After a while of walking, Kenma fell into step beside him, “You were crying.”

Kuroo was immediately reminded of the small, pudding haired boy. At least he’ll always have this one with him, after all, he stuck around this long, “Was not”

“You were.”

“Was not,”

“You were.”

They carried on walking and it wasn't until thirty seconds later that Kuroo said, “Was not,”

To which Kenma responded with, “You were.”

It’s good to know some things never change, even if everything else around him does.


End file.
